The Thoughts I Never Shared.

I had a rant rave.

June 3, 2010

 

            Now what?  Just one option, really.

 Only one way out now: towards the bottomless pit of fears and memories. 

I promised myself I would never revert to that phase but here I am standing on the edge of falling down, teetering on the verge of falling down there. 

One more push, and there I fall. 

It’s completely dark and I’m not sure what I would do if I were to fall in. 

Sink? Die? 

Who knows what goes on down there. 

Monsters of all kinds. 

Creeper crawlies, that’s for sure. 

Crawling all over and in my body, eating me from the inside out, like these memories. 

I promised myself I would not think about any of this, that I would forget everything. What a lie. Who does this? Who lies to herself like this? Am I the only one? 

Or is there someone else around that can listen and understand? 

I drown myself in fake enthusiasm. 

“You’re getting better” I tell myself in the mirror every day. 

But the second I turn away all I see etched on the inside of my eyelids is liar liar liar. How can I turn off the light on these memories when, in the dark, all I see are the flashes of everything that has happened? 

And when I’m happy and having fun, there is no way I can stay like that. 

For one minute, for one hour, I’ll forget, and I’ll let her escape and have fun and not be shelled in like the rest of me. 

Just once, I want to fully be freed of my past. 

I want to be able to look into the stars at night and see only me, and not everything in my past. 

I want to see hope in my future. 

I want to see me.

I need to see something to get through and endure.

Reviews

[eli mercuree rue]

the fact that this poem truly goes nowhere
is wrapped in the opening and closing statements/questions pertaining our existence


it is a question which plagues the best of us
which plagues the worst of us

until we realize that it doesnt really mattre whats next
its more about whats now.

[Kevin]

Great read. I loved the emotion you expressed, and the flow was concrete.

[Nishmas]

Very interesting. I would put this under poem not story.